Slippery
by KateShines
Summary: Kinda dark, kinda dirty. Jayne and River. Complete.
1. Arid

**Notes: **I stole the first line from Sylvia Plath. My apologies. This is much shorter than the last thing I wrote so it hopefully will not take so gosh-darned long. Hope you like it - any advice is much appreciated.

* * *

Her blacks crackle and drag.  
Oily eddies  
boil over and lap at her toes.  
Her soul  
drowns in the dusk.  
Fingers and  
hands and  
needles and  
hooks  
catch at her skin,  
tear flesh  
from her bones, leave her  
withered and tired and bare.

A dry silhouette of a girl.

Her spirit has been leached from her body like dew from the desert.  
She is an alabaster chalice.  
Perfectly formed.  
Yet empty.

He, he runneth over.  
He drips, he leaks, he pours.  
Sweat and  
spit and  
semen and  
blood.

She catches  
it all with outstretched palms.  
A pilgrim  
prostrate before her saint.  
She absorbs  
it all into her dusty pores.  
She takes  
and she steals  
and she drinks him down like chocolate.  
She feeds,  
spackling her cracks.  
He coats  
her bones now,  
thick as pudding,  
thick as thieves.

She could wring him  
from her hair and fill her cup.  
But she's greedy, needy.  
And now she wants more.

* * *

He notices her acting different when he's around. Usually she'd be vacant-eyed, twirling off through the corridors. But now, whenever he walks in, she stares at him, locking eyes. Her gaze is hard and demanding. He's got no idea what it is she's looking for, but he knows that whatever it is, he sure as hell ain't giving her any. 

So when she spends the entire dinner hour staring at him with her dry lips slightly parted, he stares back with his primal glare. And she… she smiles, for a moment. For a moment he sees light in her eyes. Then, it's gone. He gawks until the shock wears off. Gorram girl's weird, that's all, he tells himself. He goes back to eating, not looking up at her again.

* * *

A few days later, he is walking towards his bunk when he sees her. She is shuffling away from his door, dragging something behind her. He stops in his tracks and observes her suspiciously. She continues to walk in the shadows of the bulkhead. Jayne shouts out at her and she slowly turns around, her face hidden behind her hair and the dark of the ship. She drops the material she was carrying and it pools at her feet. He recognizes the green fabric of his own shirt. He starts to yell at her, but then she moves. He watches in confusion as she lifts her arms and holds her hands out towards him. 

"I came to the well," she speaks in a slightly cracked voice. "Share your cup with me."

Jayne takes a step backwards. He doesn't know how to respond. So he doesn't. He turns away from her and jumps down to his bunk, slamming the door above him.

* * *

Every time Jayne sees River over the next two weeks, she's wearing the faded olive shirt she pulled from his dirty clothes pile. Right now, as he tries to lift weights and ignore his spotter's preaching, he watches her out of the corner of his eye. She's seated atop one of the cylindrical cargo canisters strewn about. She's got his shirt pulled over her legs, and her face is half-hidden beneath the worn neckline. Only her dark eyes peak out. And they're focusing directly on him. He tries to concentrate on the weights he is lifting. Finally, his set is over, the shepherd is leaving, and Jayne sits up to towel himself off. 

Suddenly, she is there beside him. He jerks at her startling appearance. She's not wearing her customary skirt, just his shirt. Her long, bare legs are covered in goosebumps from the cold. Tangled brown hair falls over her breasts. She points to a droplet of sweat that slides down his chest.

"Liquid effort," she whispers, frantically surveying the perspiration covering his body. "Please…"

Jayne grunts. "Please what, you fruit?"

River lifts her eyes to his, begging, pleading. "Make me wet."

Jayne stands immediately and backs away. "Make you _what_!"

"Make me wet," she repeats, cautiously taking a step towards him. "Just, touch me. Not fair, you have too much. Share with me. Make me wet like you."

Jayne turns away quickly and heads out the door. "I ain't touching you, girl. Leave me alone."

He stomps out of the cargo bay, weird tingles going up his back, and he barely hears her offer, "I'll make you _like_ it."

* * *

A job has gone bad. Nobody died, but only because Jayne took the brunt of the attack. The doctor stitches him up and sends him on his way. Jayne limps back towards the dining room to get something to eat. After grabbing a stale bao, he falls into the closest chair to eat. 

He's sore and tired. Chewing his food seems like too much work. And then, he hears it. A soft step. She's here again. He hears her come directly behind him and he stiffens, too exhausted to run away again.

"Go away," he grumbles.

He hears a hitch in her breathing as she curls her hands around the top of his chair. She leans her face near his. He feels her warm breath on his cheek as she examines the stitches on his hairline. Her gasps of air are getting quicker.

"You're bursting," she murmurs in amazement. "It pours out of you."

He closes his eyes, waiting for her to finish her speech and leave.

"I won't take much," she whispers as she moves between him and the table, her thighs brushing the inside of his knees.

He sighs, and opens his eyes to cuss her out. She's still wearing that shirt.

"When am I gonna get my shirt back?" he spits out.

"When you take it off me," she replies seriously.

She reaches out towards his forehead, and gently runs her forefinger across the black stitches. Pulling back, she stares lustfully at the faint streak of red coating her finger.

"You're off your nut, girl," he says quietly.

He stands to leave, but unintentionally pins River against the table as he does so. Her eyes roll back as she gasps at the contact of their hips. Jayne frowns in confusion as she grabs the edge of the table to support herself.

"Please, Jayne," she begs again as she leans back on the table, "fill me."

He hesitates, watching her writhe against the wooden table-top. One of her legs has lifted onto the chair he just vacated and she is using it to rub against his thigh.

He grabs at her leg to pull it off him. She immediately stills, waiting with bated breath as he tightens his fingers around her thigh. He's never seen her like this, her chest heaving; her eyes squeezed shut; her nails digging into the hard wood. He doesn't know what to do.

He jumps as Simon enters the kitchen and stares at his sister laid out before Jayne, his large hand wrapped around her thigh. Simon rushes to save her, asking Jayne what is going on.

"Your baby sister's horny, doc," the mercenary sneers as he pushes River's leg away and limps out of the room.

He glances back, and sees Simon fussing over River, who sits obediently. But her flushed face is staring at Jayne, watching him as he backs away.

* * *

A week passes. Jayne is lifting weights again. He keeps glancing around the room, looking for her. Finally the preacher notices and asks what's bothering him. Jayne brushes off his comment and tries to focus on his set. But he keeps seeing glimpses of pale skin and dark hair that disappear when he turns to look at them. After Book leaves to wash up, Jayne stays, waiting to see if she'll show up. After fifteen minutes, he feels like a fool and stomps off to shower. 

Kaylee has turned the locker room into a shower, using the engine to heat the tanks of water. Jayne sits on the small wooden bench to wait as the water heats up. He kicks his boots off then pulls his sweaty shirt over his head, throwing it in a ball onto the floor. He rubs a hand through his short hair, sending a spray of sweat into the air.

A small, dry hand reaches out from the shadows and caresses Jayne's shoulder. He stiffens, but doesn't say anything. He waits, knowing she'll do something wacky again. He feels her kneel behind him, her hand trailing down his back.

"You waste your sacramentals," she admonishes. "Bless me, Jayne, for I have sinned."

Jayne shivers at her words. He doesn't bother trying to decipher what she means. "Don't understand, girl. Now, get." But he is half-hearted in his rebuke, his curiosity about what she'll do next winning over.

"Purify me, wash me?" she asks, her lips against the skin of his lower back.

Jayne freezes, fingers of electricity following the path her lips make.

She continues speaking against his back. "You're soaked through. Need your water, your fluid."

Then, using the flat of her tongue, she laps up a bead of sweat from the top of his waistband to the back of his ear.

Jayne waits as she sucks up the last bit of moisture from his neck. He waits until she starts to pull away. He waits until she turns to leave.

Abruptly, he cracks his neck, tilting his head from side to side, and, in one fluid motion, stands up and grabs River around the waist, pulling her back against him.

"Quit talking weird, girl," he hisses in her ear. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she groans as she rubs her face against his neck.

He sheds his pants with a grunt, and then turns her towards him. He lifts her up his body and wraps her legs around his hips.

"So, you want to be wet, huh?" he asks before licking her neck.

She murmurs her assent before dropping kisses on his damp forehead.

He takes the few steps to the shower and slams their bodies against the metal wall. He lets the water of the shower flow over his back as he yanks off the shirt she wears and lets it fall to the floor. He feels her legs tighten around his waist, locking him against her. He presses his body against her, crushing her breasts between them. She's licking his neck, kissing his face, frantically holding his head to hers.

He bares his teeth against her cheek. "Wet enough yet?" he asks.

He doesn't wait for an answer. He lifts her hips off his just enough to bury himself inside her. She cries out and arches against him as he shudders at the sensation.

Their bodies are slippery from the shower and their sweat, and he has to hold on to her tightly to keep her against him. He supports her ass with his forearm, while he uses his other hand to press against the back of her neck, keeping her face close to his as he rhythmically slams her back against the wet wall.

He watches her face through the rain of lukewarm water as she thrusts against him. Her mouth is so close, but he refuses to let her kiss him. Her eyes are closed, but her lips are parted, letting the water fall against her mouth. She stretches her arms up above her head. She's catching the water in her hands, letting it trickle down her arms and mingle with their sweat.

Her writhing becomes more frenetic; she clutches his shoulders and tries to pull him closer. Her voice is keening out a wordless cry. He bites her jaw as she throws her head back, her muscles milking him. Her chest heaves with each shattered breath. He latches onto her neck with his lips and sucks as he empties himself into her.

He stays leaning against the wall with his face buried in her neck for a moment, trying to catch his breath. The only sound is their slowing gasps and the water falling all around them. He pulls her closer to him, ready for another round. She catches his face between her hands, smiles beatifically at him, and licks the corner of his mouth. Then, before he can seize her hips, she wriggles down to the floor, deposits his sopping wet shirt on the bench, and turns to leave.

"Wait…" he calls out.

She turns back to smile at him, stark naked and soaking wet. "No more desiccation. Don't need you anymore."

"But… yes, you do," he argues. ""When do I get to do that to you again?"

"When you kiss me," she answers before skipping off.

He scowls after her. "You're off your nut, girl."

* * *


	2. Alluvion

**Notes: **Please, beware, this is a little more... graphic... than the last chapter.Also, I'm writing on the assumption that River is 20-ish (i.e. legal). Suggestions/advices/criticisms are most welcome. And thanks to Aleigh's review, I now have the "Hunting Jayne" jingle stuck in my head. :)

* * *

He sits on the edge of his bed, toweling off his hair. 

He remembers her legs around him. Her taste under his tongue. The sharp edge of her hipbones against his palms. He can't forget the slippery feel of her surrounding him or the way she pushed against him. The image of her standing naked and wet and flushed from _him_ is burned in his head.

He's had her.

But now he wants more.

* * *

He watches her from across the dining table. The crew chatters around them, but he is silent, staring. When she leaves the table, he follows. 

He catches up with her in the corridor. Reaching out a hand, he pulls her to him. He runs his hands under her shirt to stroke the cool skin of her back as she sinks into his chest. He breathes heavily through his mouth. He's crazy for the feel of her.

Leaning back so he can see her face, he asks, "Wanna go to my bunk, girl?"

She smiles angelically at his leer.

"Wanna kiss me, boy?" she asks with the same, lusty lilt that he uses.

He frowns in frustration. "C'mon, now. I ain't gonna kiss you."

She pulls away from his grip and looks up at him sorrowfully. "Then I ain't gonna rut with you," she says softly, then turns and walks away.

He watches the edge of her black skirt disappear around the corner. Gritting his teeth, he slams his fist against the wall.

* * *

The next morning he sits on the edge of the catwalk, resting his chin on his folded arms. She's dancing below him. Her body slinks. Her eyes lock on his. She strokes her hands down her sides, twisting and rotating her body. Jayne can't take his eyes off her. 

He walks down the stairs to where she dances for him. He stalks towards her, catches her around the middle and lifts her against him, her back pressed to his chest. He slides a hand under her shirt as he continues walking. Her head falls back on his shoulder as his palm covers her breast. When he presses her against the cold wall of the cargo bay and rubs his hips against her ass, she lets out a hot hiss of breath.

"See, girl? You still need me," he grunts as he slides her skirt up the back of her legs.

"Don't. Don't need you," she whispers. "But need and want run parallel. Still want you."

He grins. "Fine. Don't much care which it is. As long as you'll let me sex you."

He uses his hips to hold her up against the wall, and searches under her shirt again. He didn't have enough time to explore her in the shower. Now, he wants to feel everything she has.

"Turn me around, please," she asks.

He immediately complies, pulls her from the wall to sit her on a nearby box. He yanks her legs up around his hips before he begins to bury his head beneath her shirt.

He can hear her breath catch as he laps at her skin.

"You're kissing me," she whispers as she holds his head to her chest.

He quickly removes his head and looks at her sideways. "No, I ain't. Kissing's for lips."

"Yes. On my mouth." She drags her finger across her wet lips.

"No," he grumbles. "Just let me get between your legs. You don't need no kisses."

"But I want them. From you. Kiss me, and I'll baptize you," she demands as she moves her face towards his.

He freezes as her lips come towards his. He tightens his mouth as hers descends on his.

When her tongue slides across the seam of his lips, his fingers unwillingly bite into her shoulders. He wants nothing more than to open his lips, invite her in, devour her in turn. He brings his hands up to her face, strokes his thumbs across her cheekbones, and pulls her away from him.

She stares hard into his eyes. Realization breaks the frost in her glare. "You've never been kissed," she states.

He frowns at her. "Kissing's overrated."

"The boy is the key," she says as she slips her hands around his waist and pulls him against her. "The girl can break the dam."

"You ain't breaking nothing. And you're not worth kissing," he says as he pulls away and stomps out of the room.

* * *

They're planetside when Mal orders him to guard River while the rest of the crew plays some elaborate con. He follows her faithfully, letting his eyes focus on her ass while she flutters around between market stalls. She keeps looking back at him, her gaze hungry. He knows she wants him. He decides to follow her closer, letting the crowd push him into her. She stiffens whenever his hard front brushes against her soft skirts. 

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lowers his mouth to her ear. "I know you want me, girl. I can smell you."

She turns and forcibly pulls him to her by his belt loops. "You smell me. I _feel_ you." She accentuates her point by rubbing her stomach against the hardness in his pants.

"C'mon," he says in his husky voice, "you didn't need kissing the first time I pinned you. Why do you need it now?"

"You filled me, fueled me. Need the cap. It will keep everything from spilling out again."

She slides one hand under his shirt, splaying against his flat stomach. "Why has no one kissed you?"

He frowns. "No one wanted to. Didn't need kissing."

"But _I_ do. I need yours. Your lips, your mouth, your taste." Her eyes flutter closed as she speaks.

A growl catches in his throat as her nails scratch across the skin of his stomach. Her other hand leaves his waist and digs into his pocket so she can grasp him discreetly.

"Hot damn, girl," he groans.

He bends down and catches her behind the knees, lifting her up into his arms. "C'mon, we're out of here."

He wades through the crowd with her tucked in his arms. He sees the aspen forest on the edge of town and makes for the trees.

* * *

He drops to his knees in the small clearing. She lies back in the grass, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to pull him down on top of her. He leans over her, her hips cradling his perfectly. He supports his weight on his forearms, bracing himself above her. 

"All right," he says as he brushes strands of her hair off her face. "I'm gonna kiss you. But only once. Then I can lie with you, right?"

She nods and her hips roll beneath him. He chuckles nervously.

"I never kissed nobody before. So, no laughing at me," he says as he lowers his face towards hers.

He moves closer to her lips. They're slightly parted; her breathing is shallow and quick. He brushes his mouth lightly against her top lip. It's full and warm. He opens his mouth slightly and tentatively touches her with his tongue. She hums quietly beneath him. She opens her mouth a little more and traces her tongue against his bottom lip, then catches it delicately between her teeth.

He thrusts involuntarily into her.

With a groan, he catches her face between his hands and opens his mouth fully against her. He plunges into her mouth, stroking her tongue with his. His lips caress against hers, molding and tasting and pressing. He hears her whimpers begin to build. Her hands are on his back, under his shirt. They pull him closer, and he willingly puts more of his weight on top of her. Her tongue is in his mouth, dancing behind his teeth and along the roof of his mouth. He continues devouring her lips, licking her tongue, rubbing his chest against hers.

He can't believe the joy he feels in kissing her. He feels physical pain from the realization that he could have been kissing before this moment, but realizes that probably no one else would taste like her – taste of chocolate and cherries.

Her hands are working his shirt up his chest. He works his arms out of the sleeves and breaks his contact with her mouth to get rid of the fabric. Once his head is free of the shirt, he dives back into her, refusing to abandon the pleasure of her. His hands slide under her head, forcing her mouth even closer.

She begins to speak haltingly against his mouth. "You kiss… benediction… my flesh…" her voice fades into a moan as he suckles her tongue.

"Want you," he breathes between kisses, "want you. I want you. I want you."

He pulls one hand from her face to trace down her neck and across her collarbone. He massages his palm against the side of her breast before continuing down to the hem of her dress. His hand caresses her slender leg before pushing up her dress, leaving her lower half naked against his stomach. Kicking off his boots, he shimmies out of his pants and settles back into her hips.

Her bare feet run up the back of his legs and buttocks before locking around his waist. He can feel her arching into him with every lap of his tongue in her mouth.

"I wanna keep kissing you while I do this. Does it work that way?" he asks as he slides his lips across hers.

"Mm-hm…" she murmurs as she scores her nails up his sides.

He shudders in response, holds his face still above hers, and slowly slides into her.

They both moan in harmony at the feeling of his length forced inside her.

He kisses her softly now. Her tongue laps at his mouth insistently. He has to use the weight of his body to keep her hips from thrusting violently against his. He keeps one hand behind her head, but moves the other beneath her bottom. With his arm behind her hips, he tilts her against him, further sheathing himself.

She cries out, she tries to rock against him, but he holds her steady with his hands, his weight, and his kisses. Only when his body begins to quiver uncontrollably against her does he start to move.

Slowly, he moves. At first. He tries to match the deliberate rhythm of his kisses. But she is desperate. Her nails claw at his back. Her hips spasm against his. She's keening his name into his mouth. Over and over she cries for him.

He can't stand it anymore. Can't hold back anymore. He erupts. He pumps fiercely into her, within her. He grits his teeth and grunts against her mouth that wails for him. The sound of his name on her lips and the stroke of her flesh around him are all that he is aware of. She surrounds him.

He feels the creep of electricity slowly travel from the back of his legs to his groin. It builds, waiting for her. Waiting for only her.

Her hips start to buck as she tightens around him. Her scream boils his blood and he explodes into her as she trembles beneath him, around him, in him.

He collapses on top of her, making sure it's impossible for her to run away again. His lips are still against hers as they gasp for breath.

"Tyen, tyen," he breathes out as he wraps his arms around her. "You're so good… so good."

He rolls to his side and holds her, kissing her lips as he tries to catch his breath. Her face is flushed but radiant. She rests in his embrace and smiles up at him. "It is finished."

"For now," he responds, and kisses her deeply again.

* * *

Two hours later, they begin their walk back to Serenity as the sun is setting. Again, River walks in front; Jayne, two paces behind. The crew is back and welcomes them home again. Simon asks his sister if she had a good time. 

"Yes," she answers with a smile. "Jayne's a very good kisser."

Jayne beams proudly and catches her chin in his hand. He kisses her again, quickly but familiarly.

He heads off to his bunk, ignoring the crew's bewildered stares. The only look that matters is hers. And she's happy.

* * *


End file.
